It was as if Grace-church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore. A thin line of red appeared in the white neck. One was in the Indian Civil Service and one in the rapidly developing motor business. “I am going,” she said grimly, with three hairpins in her mouth. ‘I thank you. —I'll soon find you out. “I like to think of your offer. I have been in torment all the while to know whether it was to Anna or to Annabel that you were making love so charmingly. And now," she added, glancing contemptuously at the woollen-draper, "I'll go to Jack Sheppard.
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